The Good Doctor
by CrazyIndigoChild
Summary: Doctors Mistoffelees and Munkustrap live quite exciting lives when it comes to saving cats and pulling things out of orifices. Or snotty kittens. It's easy to forget that even doctors can grace the gurney of a trauma table. AU kinktrash. Angst. Things out of bums. Not the main characters though... yet.
1. Chapter 1

So I've been revisiting my all-time favourite show "ER" and have a borderline obsession with medical mysteries/dramas. So what do I do when I want to take break from writing things I **_need_** to write? I turn a 1000 word plot bunny into a 10,000 word... thing.

To keep myself from falling into the habit of starting and never completing a story I have finished the whole piece before posting. I recommend.

* * *

"Whoever thought a 'Clearance Cookout' was a good idea needs to be shot," sighed a raggedy silver tabby decked in vomit-stained orange scrubs and a permanently scrunched nose. The instant the lounge doors shut his shirt was a sour ball in the laundry hamper; partial nudity be damned, he just wanted to stop smelling like semi-digested Bjorn's veggie-dogs.

At the lounge table Alonzo stared at the same page he'd been scrupulously inspecting through dark sunglasses for the past fifteen minutes, coffee freezing over next to his Break-Fast bar. Though Munkustrap's love of cookouts had been shot down, trampled, kicked, and repeatedly vomitted on, his love of anything breakfast foods remained. As any good friend would he took the liberty of relieving Alonzo of the burden and scarfed it down on his way to the coffee pot.

From the locker room emerged a bottomless Electra; another unfortunate victim of last night's Hospital of Horrors. "Between the two of us we could make a fully clothed zombie," she noted between yawms. For his part Munkustrap frowned sympathetically and hoped she didn't steal the last backup-reserve-emergency pair of scrubs in the lounge. They may have been fellows in battle, but he would put her in the ground for a fresh shirt.

And then the world did a glorious somersault onto its head as the day staff- the heroes Munkustrap needed but not the ones he deserved for another four hours- started filing in. Among them was a five foot tall banana. Also known as Dr. Mistoffelees, the paediatric emergency physician.

"Happy beginning, middle, third quarter, and end of shift everyone!" he greeted, sipping from a carton of milk. "Electra I've brought those spares you asked for." Across the room a shining bag of home-washed salvation flew in the form of a tattered old denim backpack. Which Electra caught and immediately pulled out a peach set.

"You're a life saver, Misto-"

"I'll put it on your tab."

Too big for the tab was Munkustrap- though Mistoffelees did offer a Winnie the Pooh set he may be able to squeeze into. Munkustrap regretfully declined; most of his patients were grown cats. Also he'd have to put up with Alonzo for the rest of their shift. The ruddy brown emergency backup pair it would be for him.

Being rather new to the medical team, Mistoffelees had the luxury of having his locker out in the open-which he didn't seem to mind one bit as he twirled the lock and stuffed his things into an already overcrowded cubby.. "Let's start the day! Munkustrap, you look about ready to fall over. I can page you when I spot a trauma coming in."

"I'll be fine, thank you," he sighed, rubbing the crust from his eye as he slurped his own scalding black ambrosia. "I just don't know how you manage to stay so... awake."

The tux clipped his ID badge to the matching neon yellow scrub top, grinning cheekily; "A wise doctor once told me the keys to success as a doctor involves three Cs: Caffeine, Crack, and Crazy good sex." He shook his milk carton for good measure before downing the rest and tossing it into the trash.

Whichever of the two he had going Munkustrap would take ten. Coffee just wasn't cutting that kind of edge.

"It's definitely crack," Electra noted, following her eager colleague out onto the battlefield.

With a last gulp of coffee the sluggish tabby doctor pulled up his bootstraps and prepared to face the day. Or at least the rest of his shift. "5am. Let's do this. Come on, Lonz."

"I'm reading an article," the patched tom murmured groggily.


	2. Chapter 2

"And can you roar like a lion?"

"Grr."

Weak. The tux pulled away with a disapproving grimace. "Come now, I know you've got one in there. Let's do it together. On three; one... two... three!"

The emergency department erupted in a string of roars as both kitten, parent, doctor, and bored patients alike roared along. From the nursing station Head Nurse Jennyanydots peered out quizzically, catching the eye of a couple passing nurses and one confused intern. "What a good roar!" Mistoffelees cheered. "And you most definitely do *not* have laryngitis. Looks like a mean chest cold to me, Mom."

"Then she would need antibiotics, right? To clear it up?"

"Nope. It'll clear on its own with some rest, fluids, and maybe a day off school if someone can play up those pretty brown eyes. But if you're concerned you can always followup in a couple of weeks if it seems to be lingering."

"That was a waste of two hours," she griped. "I want a second opinion."

"...A second opinion. Of course. I'll grab a colouring book and some crayons for Sillabub here while you wait for the attending physician." With the curt snap of his gloves he disposed of the rubber and wandered back over to triage. From the bottom drawer he pulled out a Disney colouring book and a six pack of crayons... for good measure he picked up a lozenge for the poor kit.

Glancing up with a huff he spotted his attending coming out of a consultation in the first trauma room, speaking hurriedly to Munkustrap as they walked to the elevators. Mistoffelees had a bad feeling that his attending physician was on his way out. "Skimbleshanks! Doctor, I-"

"I can't right now, Mistoffelees, I'm expected upstairs in... a half hour ago. You can speak to one of the residents if you need help."

Aw sugar. Looked as though Sillabub was getting that day off of school. "I can help if you'd like," called Munkustrap from where Skimbleshanks left him, finishing his notes on the patient chart. "You're looking to have a second opinion?"

"On my eight-year-old patient. She has a viral chest infection but the mom isn't too keen on leaving without drugs."

"We'll just have to convince her otherwise. Let's motor!"

From the edge of the curtain Mistoffelees watched, a little miffed, as Munkustrap scrupulously went over the same examination he had undergone. Poking and prodding at the kit's neck, listening to her lungs- wheezing and some isolated crackling on the right- all that was left was a peek at her tonsils. The doctor pulled up the chart and flipped through the lab work. "You've taken a swab. No sign of strep, which is never bad news. Sputum?"

"Milky."

Nodding, the tabby motioned for the kit to open her mouth and he had her pant like a pollicle as he peered inside with a small flashlight. "The coughing; has it been a barking sound? A wet cough? Dry?"

The mom spoke up. "It's dryer during the day but at night it gets more wet and pleghmy; the coughing keeps her up all night."

The tabby regarded the girl with a calculating look, glancing at the mother and then at Mistoffelees. "I'll bet my left thumb that was you roaring earlier," he said with a smile. Blushing Sillabub nodded. "Ma'am, from what I see your daughter has an upper respiratory infection. It is a viral infection so antibiotics will do more harm than good; her body looks to be giving it a run for its money so I'm confident it should be able to kick it in a week or so. Do be sure to keep an eye on it and if she doesn't improve by Saturday have her come back for reassessment."

"Of course, thank you doctor."

"My pleasure. Dr. Mistoffelees will write up his out-care instructions." He stood and shook the mother's paw. Stepping to the side he motioned for the tux to follow him out. "Sometimes with parents you have to dress it up. They really like the words 'infection' and 'reassessment.' Also they're not very fond of 'terminal' so use that word sparingly."

"Alright, so how do I dress up lemon tea and cough syrup?"

"Amount, frequency, and technical jargon: one cup of citrus tea three times daily with... I dunno... some dimetapp. Also bedrest."

"You could sell bottled air to a bird."

"Maybe I could sell you on the idea of dinner tonight? I know an amazing Indian restaurant."

"You had me at dimetapp," Mistoffelees grinned, handing the tabby his file to sign off on the second opinion for discharge. The alarm signalling an arriving trauma to the ambulance bay had Munkustrap jogging off with a weary sigh; he met the screaming patient at the door and jumped into a whirlwind adventure in reducing a hip.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey all! Back with another chapter for yous.

There was some confusion, but the term 'reducing' is used to refer to the act of putting a dislocated joint back in place. It would make sense if it doesn't show up in first aid scenarios since it generally require anaesthetic. It hurts like a mother.

* * *

Elbow deep in a kitten's nose wasn't exactly where Mistoffelees had pictured his career heading ten years ago, but presently it was the making of a great day. "How many Funny Beans do you have up there?" he mused, pulling out a bright orange weighted... well... bean. It fell onto the metal tray with a loud clank next to the others. Of which there was an impressive four. "Looks like you were going for a rainbow."

Back in he went, the kit's embarrassed mother cradling him in her lap while the good doctor held her indignant son's head back and went fishing. "We're teaching him colours," the mother chuckled awkwardly. "I mean, we've been telling him what they were. His father's an artist."

"Well kittens minds are industrial strength sponges; are you sure your husband isn't engaging in any... interpretive art?" he glanced up at her with a small grin.

To that she blushed. "Oh, well his father was a donor. It's just the two of us-"

"NOO!" screamed the kitten with a hard kick to Mistoffelees stomach. Okay, he had that one coming; that last bean- or at least the most recent- was quite up there and Mistoffelees may have overestimated his patient's nasal passage as much as the kit had. "Owie!" he cried.

He released the pair with a contemplative sigh and turned to his tray. With a rueful smile he picked up a bean and bounced it in this palm. It clacked and shifted. Huh. The blade of a scalpel knew no effort when he cut into the plastic coating, revealing a small but dense metal weight inside.

"Oh! One moment please," he excused himself and all but sprinted to the triage desk. "Where are our emergency magnets?"

"Our what?" grimaced Alonzo through a mouthful of granola.

"He means the SafetyPlus magnets that tell patients what symptoms are worth an ER visit. Not that they work," Electra supplied. "They're in the waiting room."

When he searched he hadn't found any by the condoms and sanitizer, but there was one stuck to the back of the vending machine. "Come to me," he whispered as he strained to reach behind it and yank it off.

"Need any help, doc?" Oh. All the patients in the waiting area watched him, grunting and snuffling, as he struggled to reach. The brave patient who'd thought to approach him was the biggest Savannah he'd ever seen. Anywhere Mistoffelees could recognize the strung out bloodshot eyes of a cat in pain, but sadly he wouldn't be seeing or helping this cat today.

And by gosh did he need that magnet.

Retracting his paw he smoothed out his scrubs and nodded. "There is a magnet behind that vending machine and it's a- uh- serious health risk; I need to remove it immediately."

The Savannah motioned for him to step aside- Everlasting, Mistoffelees's ears barely reached his shoulders! With a quick peek he reached back and plucked the magnet, offering it to the doctor with a grimace. Touching the magnet, the tux returned the sour look. Seems like this was a rather longstanding health risk.

"Thank you. You've done a great service to your emergency department." Grinning like a maniac he turned to be buzzed back behind triage.

"Uh, Doc?"

Stopping short Mistoffelees turned back. "Do you think I'd be able to get something for my back while I wait? The pain's getting unbearable."

"Oh. I'm sorry, but I wouldn't be able to without your file. It might compromise your care. But we are working as quickly as we can."

That earned him a sheepish smile; "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"Not at all, I'll see if we can bring out a pillow for you-"

"Ah don't worry about me, doc, you've a... health risk to take care of."

Mistoffelees gave the tom a quick thumbs up before buzzing in behind triage. Once out of sight he scampered off like a bandit to his patient.

"And there... it... is!" Clack. Removing the, now sterilized, magnet from the kit's face the doc held up the retracted weight for all the world to see. "I'm available for birthdays and bachelorette parties."

Alonzo, intrigued when he'd found the tux jamming the magnet into his patient's face, snorted when the kit sneezed out the remaining plastic bean casing onto the tux's yellow scrub shirt. "Impressive! We should call you the Magical Dr. Mistoffelees."

"Send the memo," the tux laughed as he stood to clean up his station. Turning to the mother he offered her the tray. "Do we need these back?"


	4. Chapter 4

Alrighty! I'm back with another thrilling instalment of 'The Good Doctor (TM)' which in my humble opinion should be a soap opera. Someone call daytime television!

Chapters are getting longer as we move into the action on...

 ** _The Good Doctor_**

*Theme music*

* * *

Munkustrap loved his job, honest to goodness, but sometimes he found himself having to suppress the urge to step out in front of an arriving ambulance just to avoid the dreaded double shift. But hey, he was a sucker for mangled bodies and cries of anguish.

Jennyanydots tied the back of his splatter gown as he took up post next to Alonzo, decked to the nines in his own water-tight seal. Munkustrap gave him a once-over, the ambulance screeching into the emergency bay. "I like your booties."

"These shoes are new," he sighed. The bus pulled up and out came a thrashing tom, greeting them with a beautifully arching spray of blood that only Jenny had been able to dodge. Just narrowly. Alonzo flinched as his goggled ran red. "Wrap that up!"

"Sorry," the EMT snapped, struggling to restrain the gash on the tom's arm. "He's been like this since he was cut from the wreck; first responders found him out cold."

Munkustrap peered into the back of the ambulance, spotting a faint looking queen-kit and a whole lot of blood. "...Where's his paw?"

"They hadn't found it yet."

"And the queen?"

"Hasn't spoken. She was in the car with him when it rolled but when we got there she'd been wandering around. We didn't even realize she was in the wreck."

"Alright, hand her here." The paramedic grabbed the queen like she was a ragdoll and all but dropped her into Munkustrap's arms. From the looks of her she couldn't have been any older than 15; she weighed no more than a box of wet tissues. "Hello, I'm Munkustrap. Can you tell me if you're hurt?"

Silence. The one time he didn't want it. Instead she leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder. Where he would have turned right to follow Alonzo into Trauma Room 1, he scoped out a gurney in the hallway to set his mute patient onto. Gently he settled her on her back and hoisted the backrest up. Upon seeing the second patient, Jellylorum stalked over. "She came in with Alonzo's patient?"

Munkustrap nodded as he studied her eyes and inspected her head. Nothing seemed obviously wrong with her. She was just quiet. Eerily quiet. "Get Mistoffelees."

A few minutes later he spotted the walking highlighter turn the corner, his eyes quick to take in the usual precursory glance of the patient on the gurney before approaching. "Why hello there," he greeted pleasantly enough. "I'm Dr. Misto. How are we today?"

"She's not spoken," Munkustrap supplied, removing his paws from the queen. "The car she was in rolled; she came in with another patient."

"This blood-"

"Isn't hers. Paramedics say she was just... walking around."

"I want a neck brace on her right now. Can I have a trauma room?"

Mistoffelees had said it so calmly, so low and easy that neither Munkustrap nor Jellylorum had realized he wasn't talking to himself until he looked up at the both of them and motioned to the trauma room in the opposite direction. "Now please."

"Right! I'll clear it out-"

"Do you need a back board with that brace?"

"No, her back is fine." The queen craned, curious but slow and tensed, to spot the door the screaming tom had disappeared into with Alonzo and Jenny. Mistoffelees restrained her head with a paw. "No moving please. We need to make sure your neck is okay. Are you in any pain?"

She blinked up at him dully. Jelly returned with a brace and together they fastened tight under her chin. "Do you know if you have any allergies? If I give you medicine will it make you sick?"

Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He wasn't sure if he liked her or was scared of her.

"Room's free," came Munkustrap's voice before he joined them in pushing the gurney into the private room. "Where do we start then?"

"Ask the tom if-"

"Out like a light."

"Figures. May I?" he motioned to her shirt once he'd wrestled on a pair of gloves. When she didn't answer (to their debilitating shock) he gently lifted her shirt to take a look at her-

A mangled scream was the first noise she made, and to it Mistoffelees nearly fell back on his arse, gripping his chest. "...Brat," the tux spat. She ignored him.

Munkustrap had nearly fallen over. "Mistoffelees!"

"No! Wait..." he began, stepping back to the bedside, holding up his gloved paws like she'd been holding a gun. When he'd gotten her full attention his paws began to move; shifting from rolling his pointer fingers around each other and finishing with a point. "Do you sign?"

She regarded him with saucer eyes, glancing at Munkustrap and Jelly before raising her closed fist and giving it a quick shake. He responded with a couple quick movements around his face, supplying the hearing doctors with "Are you deaf?" She responded with another shake of her fist. Dropping his hands with a relieved sigh he grinned; "Well there we go! Now let's get to work."

While Mistoffelees introduced himself and explained the xray and machines to the queen- whose name was Prompomore- Munkustrap and Jellylorum made themselves useful where they could. As a general rule, however, only Dr. Misto was allowed to place his hands on her: it wasn't hard to tell when a line had been crossed as they'd all get more than an earful.

Half way through the examination he'd unearthed some chest pain, a headache, and a sore neck without any bone damage. "There's guarding in the abdomen."

Munkustrap was hovering over his shoulder, "Spastic or rigid?"

The patient was more than quick to notice the tension, shooting Mistoffelees a series of lightning-quick signs with a strange smirk. For his part the tux simply nodded and flicked his wrist at her.

Still feeling around, he glanced over his shoulder thoughtfully. "It's rather rigid, I'll need the ult-"

"Haaaak!" snapping up the queen have a loud heave which was chased with a healthy gush of bloody vomit. By some miracle the tux's bright yellow scrubs remained spotless as ever.

"Hang a unit of O-neg," the two doctors demanded reflexively, sharing a quick glance before Misto followed up with "and call the operating room."

"On it!" a blushing Munkustrap nodded, rushing to the phone by the door. "Hi, this is Munkustrap from the ER..."

.

.

.

"I'll come see you when you come out. The nurse knows to call for me," he'd promised as he held his patient's paw and petted her head while the surgeon prepped and sanitized the fur around her belly. Teary eyed she held up her paws to sign to him a few more times before the anaesthetic dragged her under. *Will it leave a mark?*

They shared cheeky grins while the anesthesiologist prepped the breathing tube. "You've got about thirty seconds." He tapped his watch and gave her paw one last strong squeeze. *See you in three hours.*

Once her paw drooped lifelessly in his he was at the mercy of the operating staff, who swiftly shooed him and his germy runners out of the room. "The second she comes out I'm paged or there'll be hell to pay, Asparagus!"

"Goodbye, Mistoffelees."


	5. Chapter 5

NEXT CHAPTER!

Hokay, so before I begin with Mistoffelees' confession I have to have a confession of my own: this whole piece is a practice in narrative. I'm trying new things with my narration and I'm wondering if there's anything you guys can point out for me to work on. I will take any and ALL criticisms.

* * *

Alright, confession time: Mistoffelees' big secret wasn't crazy good sex or crack. It wasn't even caffeine. Not that he could afford any of those anyway.

If asked he'd say it was his motivation to help the sick and needy- or whatever was the go-to doctorlike excuse. But cats would always be sick and kittens never stopped shoving things up their noses, it was a law of nature. No, the reasons he got up at strange hours and worked until he dropped on the gurney in the ready room were a lot more selfish and a mite pathological.

The moment Mistoffelees got in the front door after a long day he would trudge over to his landlady's apartment to have her flip on the hydro to his unit in an effort to keep ahead of his electric bill. He showered at the gym next to the muscled monstrosities that shadowed his abuse of the free soap dispensers; all of his food was kept in the fridge at work under his, Electra, and Munkustrap's names.

At the market he had to ask for help reaching the higher shelves, while on a jog he often had to wear reflctors. Everything about him was small and inconspicuous and just all around ineffective.

That is... when he wasn't at work.

In the ER his voice cut through the crowd, armed with his trusty bright scrubs everyone could see him coming. Munkustrap liked to tease, but if he dressed in plain scrubs even the tabby would lose sight of him in the hustle and bustle of a trauma or on a crowded floor. He could stand right in front of Alonzo in a trauma with the nurses and would hear the older doctor asking for him.

Of course no one meant any harm by it and he'd long ago come to peace with the fact he'd have to be quick to avoid being trampled on the daily. He'd been at Montfort hospital for nearing a year now and he'd already learned how to throw his weight around and call attention to himself.

And in more ways than one.

When he opened the fridge to steal a couple grapes there had been a carton of milk with a sticky note. On it in big ugly marker was his name. He opened it and happily took a few sips before replacing it in the fridge for later. Popping a couple grapes into his mouth he quickly scribbled up a note of his own and slipped it into a locker in the coatroom before heading out for another round of doctoring.

.

.

.

"Hey doc, can a cat get a little help or do I have to die first?"

The tux and Tumblebrutus had been in the process of settling a queen kit with a broken leg into the adjacent curtained 'room' when the tux felt a tug at his shirt. When he turned around there lay the Savannah who'd fished his magnet from behind the vending machine, curled on his side and looking like he'd been run through the wash a few too many times.

Uh oh. Though dangerous it was, he turned his back on his patient and left her alone with the intern. He tried his best to be comforting, placing a paw on the tom's gigantic shoulder. "I'm sorry about the wait. How are you faring?"

"Bad." Glancing over he scanned the chart near the top of the bed. Cassandra's patient. Was it that time already? Time sure had a way of sneaking by. "Think you could hook me up with those pain meds now?"

"I'm sorry..." he took another glace at the chart, "Ghengis, but I'm not your doctor today."

"Then where is my doctor?" A paw, strong and desperate, grabbed at his arm. The grip was tight and bordered painful; this may have been just a taste of the torment this tom went through.

Mistoffelees met it with a gentle paw to his forearm and coaxed the tom back onto the gurney; this wasn't one of his kitten patients, but even grown cats needed reassurance. "I'll go find out for you."

Being a medical student it wasn't too dangerous to leave Tumblebrutus to get the kit settled- though he reminded him that there would be no leaving the bed until the cast was set, which meant potty breaks were with bedpans only.

With a promise to check on her shortly, he left his patient's bedside to stalk out the absydian doctor. Cassandra, like himself, had a tendency to wander back to the triage desk when floating between patients or waiting for results. Lucky guess, as he'd found her browsing on the computer.

"Hey, Cass, so I just spoke to your patient in curtain 7-"

"I can't tend to him right now; I've an elder patient with dementia and a bad bite from the travel bug. I need to find which nursing home they came from."

"I could call around for you if you'd like."

"I've got it. If I need a consultation I'll come find you."

"Cass, he's in a lot of pain and-"

With a sigh she turned from her browsing to give him an exasperated and stony glare. "And is also a known morphine addict who comes looking for meds the second he's got an itch. He's stable. If you're going to fall for his shtick be my guest, but don't interfere with my patients."

Ouch. Biting his lip he meekly glanced over at Jennyanydots who watched on awkwardly, mouth pressed into a fine line. "Well... then... you might want to reassess."

"What?"

"The drug seeker: he isn't stable. He's got a fever and is altered. I saw him a couple hours ago and he was calm and complaisant. Now he's aggressive; he grabbed me."

"Who grabbed you?!" It was Skimbleshanks, standing behind him with quite the number of reports and manuals under his arm. Most certainly one of those was for the tux to read- which he would do right after dinner with Munkustrap tonight.

Mistoffelees was quick to wave it off; "The altered patient next to my ankle fracture. He came in this morning complaining of back pain and helped me when I went out into the waiting area. Now he's back here with severe pain, a fever, and is agitated-"

"As people in withdrawal tend to be," Cassandra interjected. "I'm awaiting his file from the rehab centre, but until I know his history I can't put him back on the same drugs he's recovering from."

"So he's just supposed to lie there in agony for another hour while everyone else around him gets treated- assuming his file comes in at all?"

It was Munkustrap's turn to step in, having overheard the spat after clearing another patient from the board and picking up a new chart; "Sometimes we have to be careful with patients who are high-risk. If we give opiates to known drug users we could get in big trouble with the board."

"Right, which is why Cassandra will be reviewing the case file and making the call to the rehab centre," Skimbleshanks decided as he gave her a pointed look, to which she frowned. "And Mistoffelees will continue not to pass medical judgement over this patient. Am I clear?"

They both nodded, chastized. "Mistoffelees take a break."

"Now? Skimble I've-"

"Been provoked and need a moment in the lounge to destress. Your patients can wait another ten minutes. Go."

"Better be a paid break," he grumbled, grabbing the colouring book and crayons from the bottom drawer and making for the staff lounge.

The lounge was blessedly empty, not even a cooling pot coffee to call to its beloved devotees. Tossing the crayons and book on the table he pulled his milk from the fridge and opened up the book to an untouched Ariel swimming around carelessly with Flounder. Grabbing a crayon he decided to make her a brunette.

With a squeak the door opened and thus ended his alone time. "Hey are you alright?"

"I'm fine, it's Cassandra's patient who could use a break though," he grumbled as he snatched up the blue crayon and began turning Ariel into a mer-smurf.

From the door Munkustrap crept in, cautiously inspecting the room before ambling over to place his paws on the tux's shoulders. Strong fingers began to massage away the tension in his neck, earning the tabby a light purr for his efforts. A light chuckle ruffled the fur between his ears. "Some little queen is going to be very upset, that's basically blasphemy."

"You should have seen what I did to Cinderella."

Warm lips pressed to the top of his head with a quiet hum before Munkustrap released him to pull up a chair at the table. After a moment he plucked up the red and began colouring-in Flounder. "Skimble told me what happened. Want to talk about it?"

There wasn't much to talk about, the whole situation spoke for itself really. Putting down the crayon Mistoffelees busied himself with fingering the edge of the tabby's sleeve, running his paw over the soft fur on his forearm. "No. But I wouldn't mind going over plans for this evening. It looks as though a night on the town isn't in the cards for you."

"You under estimate my love of Indian food. Oh, and your company. I like that too."

"Ooh," Mistoffelees laughed, cringing as he slapped a paw over his heart. "Munkus please; you're being too romantic! I can hardly stand it!"

" **So** sorry, I'll stop. Right away." The tabby stole a quick glance at his watch and stood with a sigh. That prompted Mistoffelees to look at his own: Prompomore should be coming out of surgery soon- barring complications. "Is seven alright? I can pick you up at home."

Rising to his feet the tux planted his paws on the tabby's shoulders and hopped up onto his toes. Paws pressed comfortably to his back as their lips grazed. "Could you make it for six-thirty?"

"Not only that, but I'll be early," Munkustrap mumbled, sliding his paws up a little higher to pull him in for a- totally unromantic as promised- kiss. "But I have to go now if I'm going to finish my shift on time."


	6. Chapter 6

**Now guys, I'm not one to beg for reviews; but I do see how much traffic my stories get. If you guys are enjoying the story I really do appreciate the feedback!**

* * *

Once his break-turned-timeout had ended he leapt back into his cases; first stop was the kitten with the broken ankle. That would need a cast, which would need Demerol.

Needle in hand he made his way over to the kit's gurney, the poor thing was holding her father's paw and sniffling feebly.

"Alrighty, let's see about setting that leg so you can try out your new crutches! I'm going to give you some medicine so it doesn't hurt." He wandered over to the patient's left side, squeezing between the father and the curtain to Ghengis's section.

Cautiously the father leaned in, gently tapping his elbow. "I think something's up with the guy next door." It was then he noticed that the kitten, too, was also glancing at the closed curtain with more than a little curiosity. Had Cassandra not come by yet?

"Excuse me a moment, please." He slipped the capped needle into his pocket and, pulling back the curtain slightly, slipped behind and into the darkened 'room'. "Ghengis? Has your doctor not come in yet?"

In the bed the patient lay curled up on his side, back to the tux as he shuddered and groaned miserably. Strange, there wasn't any monitors in here yet; lifting the chart to the dim bedside light he spotted no notes on the file. No notes meant no treatment. Which probably meant no assessment. Meaning Cassandra likely hadn't come in yet.

But he wasn't to pass medical judgement on this patient. He'd promised Skimble... unless he thought it was a medical emergency.

With that thought he approaced the tom with a gentle paw on his shoulder. "Ghengis are you alright?"

"No!" he snapped, shooting up in his bed so quickly it nearly knocked Mistoffelees back into the curtain. "Not a single person's come in here since I signed in! They shut the curtains and left me here to DIE!"

Red flags flew, alarms sounded, lights flashes before his eyes in time with the thunderous pounding of his heart. Something wasn't right. This wasn't the patient he'd seen twenty minutes ago. He needed to find Skimbleshanks... "Just one moment, I'll..."

Three things happened: first, Mistoffelees' mind riddled off the height/weight to dosage in adult toms for antipsychotics. Second to happen was he'd turned his back to reach for the part in the curtain, which set him up for Ghengis to grab him by the collar and easily curl his massive mitts around the doctor's neck.

His breath reeked of stale tobbacco and peanuts- at least until the pressure around his neck pinched off the last of his air. "You're going to help me. Now."

The tux gasped for air but, as he knew it would, nothing passed. Which meant no call for help going out either.

Drawing his claws he dug them into the thin skin of his attacker's wrists, twisting to draw blood as the edges of his vision began to blur and his head drummed deafeningly. Thrashing brought his deadening foot out to hit the bedside table, knocking the cup of ice water onto the ground. "What the hell?" spat the father on the other side of the curtain.

Fifteen. It took about fifteen seconds with both cartoid arteries blocked before a patient-no- victim loses consciousness. His seconds were numbered to one paw.

Hippocratic oath be damned! Mistoffelees was going to do harm.

Fumbling in his pocket he grabbed the kitten-dosed needle. Thankfully there had been just enough strength in his paw to pop the cap off. If Ghengis wanted drugs Dr. Misto would be more than happy to oblige.

As fast as his heavy arms could swing he aimed for the top of the tom's arm. It landed and through the haze Ghengis's intelligible screams reached him, along with the faint swishing of a curtain before the blots dotting his vision swelled sharply and flooded his brain with fuzzy black.

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What has two arms, two heads, is brown all over, and has a door knob lodged in it's rear? Why, Munkustrap's current patient!

"Why a door knob?" he inquired, adjusting the light beside him as he stretched out his patient's... backside to better reach the lodged item. Assisting was Jennyanydots who, for her part, did a wonderful job of standing in the corner doing absolutely nothing with a goofy grin on her face.

On his side, knees pressed to his chest, the patient glanced meekly at him over his shoulder. "We...ah... were trying something new."

"They have toys for that, dear," Jenny supplied with a gentle pat to the arm. "How's it coming, doctor?"

"I'm going to need you to push now." A few grunts and a lot of tugging later the tabby emerged with a glittering, slippery door knob. "You might want to to do a quick rinse before you install it."

While the patient expressed his relief with a gutteral groan and a heavy flop onto the bed, Munkustrap celebrated with a pleased grin and a flourishing signature to the tom's chart with the pen borrowed from Jenny's pocket. Gloves still on. "I'm on a roll!"

Nearly skipping out of the room he made his way back to the curtained area. He could count on one paw the number of charts he had left before blessed freedom. A couple curtains over Mistoffelees flashed him a grin before greeting his patient; Munkustrap followed suit and greeted his own, a little more bounce in his step. "Good afternoon, how are we today?"

"Not good," replied the middleaged queen, clutching her purse to her chest and dabbing at her eyes with a soggy tissue. "I've been having the worst..." there was a swooshing sound and Mistoffelees hushed voice appeared in the curtained room that separated theirs- his voice quickly drowned out by the patient's angry outburst.

Instinctively he jerked, itching to throw back the curtain and make sure this guy wasn't about to cause the tux any more trouble than he'd already seen. Munkustrap had to switch his mind back to his own case and nodded sagely. "Okay, can you lay back on the bed and lift your shirt over your stomach so I can have a look?"

He'd been inspecting the intestines when there was a splash from next door. "What the hell?" came an unfamiliar voice. In the ER this was ambient noise- lots of liquids spill for lots of reasons. If Mistoffelees was attending to these patients he wasn't too worried...

"AAHHH SONOFABITCH!" That was worrisome. Curiosity got the best of him and he stalked to the front of the room to peek behind the curtain.

Blanching he ripped the curtain back, revealing a limp Mistoffelees in a deranged patient's choke hold. Blood was soaking through the tom's shirt where a needle stood tall. "Holy hell!" he heard himself say as he rushed to the bedside and pull out a plastic bedpan from the cart to wail it over the patient's head.

It wasn't supposed to hurt the patient, despite how badly Munkustrap wanted to murder him, but it had the desired effect of stunning him while a tom from the next curtain appeard and grappled the hold around the tux's neck. Freed, Mistoffelees fell lifelessly to the floor as his saviours wrestled the manic patient to the bed.

"Get a gurney!"

"Hold him tight-"

"Coming through!" Munkustrap and another plainclothed cat were jostled aside as Skimbleshanks stabbed himself between them and stuck the patient with a big ol' dose of Haldol. Thank the Everlasting Cat for antipsychotics.

Over the bed, and under a crowd of nurses and medical students, he could see the bright yellow of Mistoffelees' scrubs darkening in the puddle of water that had been knocked over in the struggle. Where usually the tux couldn't stand still, his body now lay motionless and limp. If not for his fluttering eyes Munkustrap out have sworn he was dead.

"Watch his neck!" snapped Jenny to a medical student who had been shakily fumbling to stabilize the tux's head. She tugged a gurney over, narrowly avoiding pinching Munkustrap between the two beds as he scrambled over to his friend.

Shooing the medical students- all looking about ten seconds from wetting themselves- he snatched the neck brace from one of them; "Give me that. This isn't a teaching case!" As hard as he tried he couldn't bring himself to drop the glass barrier between himself and his patient; touching Mistoffelees' purpling neck, fastening the brace like he had a thousand times before on a thousand cats... It was too close and too real.

"His pulse is thready." gulped Jemima.

"Better than nothing," Munkustrap grunted. "Lift him on my count..."


	7. Chapter 7

So once upon a time today I was reminded that I HAVE A FIC THAT I'VE NOT BEEN UPDATING. Welp. I've started school again (wouldn't you know I'm taking a course in writing!) so that means more time to write and post. Also I have a mess of material I've been hoarding.

SO HERE IS OUR LITTLE LOVELY BEING HURTED.

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Under the bright metallic lights surrounding the trauma bed Mistoffelees looked like a ghost: frail and papery as he struggled for air with tiny useless breaths. It took all of two second for eight pairs of paws to hook him up to the monitors, and no time for all of them to sound off. "Get an oxygen mask on him."

"Step out for the X-ray!"

Scattering, the room emptied out for the few moments before leaping back into the fray. Jennyanydots was the first to reach the bedside and hovered over the tux with a mixed expression. "He's awake."

And so he was! Lost in the neckbrace and under the mask, bright blue eyes wide as dinner plates darted from one cat to the next. "Mistoffelees," Munkustrap placed an paw on his shoulder, "Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?"

"Did I hurt him?" he squeaked between shallow breaths. Bastet it sounded like he was gargling gravel. "I didn't want to."

"Not enough." For a terrifying moment Munkustrap thought the damnable had come from his own mouth, he hadn't expected Skimbleshanks, jaw set and eyes glittering with reigned anger, to ever say anything so cruel. At least not as a doctor in a hospital. Munkustrap, for his part, managed to keep his mouth shut on the matter.

Instead he stuck with the easier part of his rage, which he focused on fighting the angry rasp in his friend's throat. "He may have needed a stich or two but he'll be fine."

The tux nodded weakly, flinching at the swelling muscles that purpled dark and angry with each passing minute. His eyes grew glassy and distant, welling with tears. "My sister. Someone needs to call Victoria," he snivelled with a wobbly lip. "I don't want to go on any machine without talking to her first."

Skimbleshanks and Munkustrap shared a hard look. "Now, lad, no need to get ahead of ourselves. Just breathe. Someone's calling for her right now."

Still a doctor, Munkustrap pulled out his pen light and inspected his eyes. "I'm sorry, Skimble, I should've stayed away-Ah!"

"You were doing what you thought was best for the patient, you can't be faulted for that," Munkustrap said, gently massaging along the length of the tux's neck. "Does your head hurt? Any altered vision?"

"Just blobs," he moaned. Jenny and Skimble murmured softly once the tux's IV had been put in. They were discussing the tux's rapid heart; the poor thing was going hard and fast to make up for the air that wasn't going in. "I'm going to miss dinner."

Munkustrap offered a tight, watery grin. Grasping a trembling white paw with one of his own as the other wiped at the shed tears streaking Mistoffelees' fur. "I'm sure we can reschedule; I'm free next Tuesday."

"Tuesday," Mistoffelees sighed, the distance in his eyes growing. His eyes began to droop.

Skimbleshanks held up the x-ray film for the three of them to see. "Well some good news: nothing's broken."

For a long moment Mistoffelees stared in shocked awe at the film, looking just as confused as his first day in the ER. The monitor picked up, demanding everyone's attention.

"He's throwing PVCs."

Swallowing thickly Munkustrap straightened up and studied the monitor a moment; "Give him-"

"I've got the heart. See about securing an airway."

Skimbleshanks worked quickly, calling out dosages and medications Munkustrap could only think of in twice the time it took to say it. "He said he doesn't want a machine."

"He's not DNR, Munk-"

"Mistoffelees wants to talk to his sister. He knows the risks."

"He can't make that decision, and if we wait much longer there won't be anything for her to speak to."

Suddenly their patient began to move, paws coming up to his chest as he panted harder into the mask. The heart monitor began to shriek and Munkustrap could have sworn his own heart was ready to stop. Jellylorum and Jenny, armed with scissors, moved quickly to cut away the yellow scrub top- and despite his teasing Munkustrap was sadened to see the top get ripped up to bits.

The quivering, disordered line was the familiar calling card of ventricular fibrillation. Which was a fancy doctorly way of saying the heart lost its marbles and started throwing a tantrum in hopes that something would stick. It wasn't serving the tux any as he'd quickly lost consciousness and fell limp against the bed.

Skimbleshanks seized the moment to pull out an intubation tray. With Mistoffelees unconscious there would be no debate as to his treatment; Munkustrap wanted to honour his wishes but not at the expense of his life. "I'm in!" he announced, pulling out the guidewire and clasping a bag to squeeze air into the tux's lungs. "And just by the skin of his teeth, may I add."

Fear rising, Munkustrap's blood spiked hot and prickly; sweat broke out across his back as he gelled up the paddles "Charging," Jelly said as the machine began to whirr. The moment the winding turned into a high steady whistle the tabby called out "Clear!" and pressed the paddles to Mistoffelees' chest, pulling the triggers to grip his patient with 300volts of electricity.

As if Mistoffelees' heart needed a moment to ponder, the monitor flattened, skipped, then began its futile quivering. Well if it was going to play games then Munkustrap would have to get mean. "Charge at 350." When the defibrillator whistled he dove in again and shocked the tux's small chest. The body seized a moment before falling back. "Give him a round of epinepherine." Skimble nodded and pushed the drugs, Jellylorum hopping up onto the bed to start chest compressions.

"Clear," Munkustrap tried again. To their relief when the seize had passed the monitor picked up a normal rhythm. However this time his eyes didn't open. With the gentleness of a father Skimbleshanks reached over to pet the fur between the tux's ears as he reigned in a tired sigh.

"Your shift is over, Munkustrap," he murmured. "Go clock out."

"Skimble..."

"I'll stay with him until you get back."

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Bursting from the trauma room Munkustrap had almost fed the door to one of the orderlies, with her was more than half the ER staff straining to catch a glimpse at the tux through the small windows. All eyes trained on Munkustrap, paralyzing him with their heavy expectant silence. "He arrested but we got him back."

As expected the younger staff- including newer nurses and a handful of med students, slumped with relief. Doctors and more experienced nurses knew better. "We've patients to treat; you'll get word if anything changes."

Stabbing into the crowd the tabby doctor rushed towards the lounge, the Emergency floor stretching longer than its ever been.

Some of the nurses were on their break so Munkustrap didn't have the luxury of breaking down in private before taking up residence at the tux's bedside. Out of the locker room rushed Jemima: Mistoffelees' replacement for the rest of the afternoon. The marble queen froze, stethoscope in-paw. "How is he?"

"Still alive," Munkustrap sighed, trudging past her and into the lockeroom. Muscle memory brought him to his locker and twirled the lock. The metal door slammed hard against the bank of lockers with a ringing clap, the cubby raided hastily. Lunchbag, coat, shoes, all of it thrown out onto the floor and replaced with muddy brown scrubs.

Throat raw his breaths came hard and fast as he struggled with the belt of his pants and fumbled blindly with the buttons on his shirt. They were still misaligned by the third try but it would be the best he could do. He shoved his feet into stiff leather shoes- "What..."

From a shoe he pulled out a yellow slip of folded paper. Opening it he was met with a picture of a very slapdash stickcat holding a square. The note was dotted with hearts and it read 'Thank you very moooo-ch for the milk. Dessert's on me!'

At first he laughed; of course he'd find a note, it made sense that the day Mistoffelees finds himself with a foot in the grave he'd act as ordinary as possible. He laughed until tears dotted the paper and smudged the little milk carton. Munkustrap laughed until his chuckles turned to weak whimpery sobs.

Wiping his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve he willed and pleaded for the tears to stop; he couldn't go back out into the ER looking like the runner-up in a beauty pageant. Wet stripes were ugly.

Once the threat of tears had passed, shoved deep down inside to fester a little longer, he picked up his bag and coat and shuffled to the door. The note pressed safely in his breast pocket.


	8. FIN

Last Chapter I want to thank you all for sticking with me (And thanks for that very warm welcome back **Jeffnaboots**!). I also want to thank **HumanGuineaPig,** **Delphicoracle-Cat,** **WaitingforMyMunkustrap, AutumnInWinter** for all your support (PARTY) 3 I really missed being around here and am more than excited to show you guys all the garbage I've been hoarding.

 _ **How are we liking AU? Maybe something we'd like to see more of?**_

I hope you enjoy the chapter and I'll be seeing you again soon!

* * *

"Any change?"

"He had some arrythmia but he's holding his own. Intensive Care will take him; we're waiting on a team to come down."

Okay, that was something. A step forward. Progress.

In the meantime he pulled up a rolling stool and perched dutifully at the tux's side. He tried to ignore the tubing sprouting from the tux's mouth. Had Victoria ever seen an intubated cat before? Mistoffelees mentioned they had lost both their parents a long time ago, but he never mentioned how they passed. Maybe that was why he'd been so desperate to speak to his sister before. Did he want to say his goodbyes? Explain what was to happen? Give her power of attorney? Suppose they'd never know now.

To pass the time Munkustrap busied himself with tracing along the lines in Mistoffelees' paw, committing every crease to memory. His foot tapped to the rhythm of the tux's monitor.

"Misto-oh Everlasting!" Frozen in the doorway, cowering into Jellylorum's side, was Victoria. Munkustrap had met her a few times before, she liked to come by and take her brother out for lunch every other Wednesday.

Out of courtesy he stood and offered her his stool but was promptly ignored and she wandered over to her brother's bedside. "What..." her fingers wandered to the wires on his chest, flinching away as if they burned her. "Is he dying?"

"He's doing better now. All this is to help his body rest: that ventilator there is breathing for him and giving his body all the oxygen it needs to heal."

For his efforts she gave him a vacant nod. "How long is it going to do that?"

"I don't know. As long as he needs."

The blank detatched face she'd been working so hard to keep began to crack. Lip quaking, tears welling in her eyes- the same shade of blue as her brother.

A pure white cat with striking blue eyes...

It was then he spotted the hearing aids, hidden by fluffy white fur. That would explain why Mistoffelees knew how to sign.

"When our father died we-"

They both jumped as the calm and steadied pulse of the monitor and the soft whoosh of the vent were disrupted by a shrill urgent pinging. Reflexively Munkustrap reached for his pager, but his was blessedly quiet. "What's happening?!" Victoria demanded, voice wobbling and unsteady. Her eyes scoured her brother for signs of trouble.

Approaching the bed he patted at the hem of Mistoffelees' pants, finding the pager inside a pocket full of jolly ranchers he'd give to his teeth-owning patients. It was the surgery department. Why would they be paging an ER physician?

"Prompomore." Mistoffelees had gone up with her, he was her only connection here- aside from screaming and slapping at Munkustrap and Jellylorum.

"What does that mean?"

"Today Mistoffelees had a patient who was deaf; they were able to sign to each other and he convinced her to let us treat her injuries. She went in for an operation a few hours ago. I guess he was waiting for her to come out."

Stepping forward she sheepishly picked up Mistoffelees' paw, half expecting for Munkustrap to tell her no. When he didn't she raised the paw to her cheek, nuzzling the back of his hand before planting a kiss there. "I suppose we should go to her; make sure she's okay."

"We?"

"I don't suppose you know how to sign," she sighed, straightening with a kiss to her brother's paw and the smoothing of her brown pencil skirt. "Can you bring me to his locker?"

"Of course." Reaching into his bag he took out his ID and clipped it to his shirt. Nurses didn't take kindly to strangers visiting vulnerable kittens for many reasons.

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The recovery ward was almost surreal; it had the intensity of any ward that dealt in both life and death, but with the calm you'd find in the eye of a storm. Munkustrap preferred the mindless chaos of the ER- though it would be nice to have more sedated patients. "This way," he whispered, leading her into Prompomore's curtained off corner.

Victoria followed quietly, her shiny leopard pumps clacking along the polished linoleum. Above her office clothing she sported Mistoffelees' white lab coat; no one up here would recognize Mistoffelees' name enough yet to notice the imposter. In the left pocket of the lab coat peeked a small stuffed giraffe Victoria had dug up from the organized chaos of his locker.

"I always donate bags of these things for his patients; he tells the kits that the hospital has a zoo and he's always able to get them their favourite animal." Munkustrap had nodded then, stealing a peek at the sticky notes and pictures decorating the locker. Above a note to call his uncle was a picture of Munkustrap at the triage desk wearing a green scrub top spotted with little blue fish. Mistoffelees had taken the picture to document Munkustrap's descent into graphic workwear. To his dismay it had never gone farther than the fish top.

It had never occurred to Munkustrap before then that he'd never taken a picture of the tux. The only picture he could salvage was the hospital ID from his yellow scrub top. If Mistoffelees survived he'd change that.

Quietly they slipped into the closed curtain. Pompromore was already awake; drowzy and blissfully medicated, but aware. Victoria gave her a small wave and began to sign. Munkustrap didn't have the luxury of translator, but he could tell by her roaming eyes that she was expecting Mistoffelees to be with him. Afterall they did send the irrelevant ignorant doctor, why not her tuxedoed pal?

"Don't go into detail," he instructed. "Tell her that Mistoffelees had an emergency and had to leave the hospital." Her paws moved quickly and silently. "And that he really wanted to be here when she woke up." She nodded, sniffling quietly as she signed out their apologies.

Hastily she took out the giraffe and gave it to Munkustrap. "I can't."

With a stiff practiced smile he approached the queen in the bed, taking an errant glance at her vitals on the monitor before offering the toy. There was no hiding her disappointment, but she accepted the toy with a gracious smile and a warped "Thank you." When he turned back Victoria was already gone.

Munkustrap had stuck around the hospital long enough to watch Mistoffelees' chart change paws with the ICU team and be whisked away. To be paraded through the ER for all to see. Skimbleshanks thought it best to send Victoria up to the cafeteria for tea and a meal while her brother was settled for the long haul. Which included a nice intimate date with a catheter.

It was amazing: while healthy Mistoffelees barely had a hundred dollars to his name, when he was sick he got the luxury package with a whole room to himself- complete with a private bathroom. All because he worked here and had the word 'doctor' in front of his name. After so many years of med school one would assume to get something out of it aside from a monster student debt.

There was a few moments between the nurses and Victoria's return for Munkustrap to fully absorb the tux's frail body sleeping heavily on the bed. In those moments he took solace in knowing that Mistoffelees wouldn't hear him, though he assured Victoria that he could. "I... I don't know if I want to sit here and hold your hand or beat the guy who did this to you within an inch of his life," he began, throwing his coat and bag onto the chair to kneel at the bedside. "Actually I want to do both. But I'm scared that if I look away you'll disappear forever."

His only response was the slow whoosing of the vent, the softer blips in the monitor. So desperately he wanted Mistoffelees to tell him another terrible joke; to tease him about how he's the only gay tom to not like Cher; to pull a quarter from behind his ear. He wanted to see that cheeky smirk he loved so that he could kiss it off of him again and again.

He also wanted to know if it would be too weird of him to stay the night. "What do you want me to do, Misto? I'll do anything you want, just say it."

"He'd want you to stay," he slapped at an errant tear in time to see Victoria creeping into the gloomy room behind him. A gentle paw that felt too much like her brother's smoothed the fur on his head. "I think he'd like us both to be there when he woke up."

Nodding, Munkustrap pulled himself to his feet with a sheepish smile. "I'd like that too."

In the dim Intensive Care room, surrounded by a choir of mechanical bleeping, blipping, and chiming, Munkustrap and Victoria stood vigil at Mistoffelees' bedside.


	9. SEQUEL? SEQUEL!

Hey everyone! Just a friendly reminder that I have followed this story up with another segment. While this story is over a new adventure has just begun for these two! Check out my profile (or, you know, the archive works too) for "Breaking Boundaries"

I want to warn you that it is a darker piece and deals a lot with death and injury. Possibly inflicted on one of the main characters? Who knows! With my history that is very possible and I'm sure we all know who I'm targetting... or am I?

 _ **DUN DUN DUUUUUN**_

Anywhoodle I thank you all for reading my super high-quality Misto-bashing kinktrash! It really is my retaliation on the woes of life.

~CrazyIndigoChild


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